


These fingers are mine

by lesbianquill



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, Post-Episode: S18E47 Protect and Serve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 05:32:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianquill/pseuds/lesbianquill
Summary: Serena finds that once she starts thinking about Bernie, she just can't stop. Written for the Berena NSFW ficathon; prompt 'maturbation'.





	These fingers are mine

**Author's Note:**

> It's my turn already? Here's my first offering for the 30 days NSFW ficathon, I hope you're all enjoying it so far!!
> 
> Thank you to the squad for all the cheerleading, and especially to my love @matildaswan for being a wonderful beta ♥

Two fingers, long and deft; that’s all it takes. Sliding through soft wet heat, pressing tentatively, hesitantly. There is, of course, nothing to be cautious about. Serena has been doing this longer than she can remember. Only this time, it’s not a handsome actor or lithe model that comes to mind.

This time, it’s _Bernie._

Serena cannot count the amount of times that she’s admired Bernie’s hands— working delicately in theatre, scribbling on paperwork in their office, wrapped tight around the warmth of a coffee cup— how she’s savoured the feeling of strong fingers clasped against her own when they touched.

Bernie, touching her. _Touching her_.

She doesn't just want Bernie beside her— like they had been on the theatre floor— she wants Bernie _inside_ her.

She sinks inside herself with a gasp, a sigh. Her lips part to suck in a lungful of air, heavy with heat, exhaling on a shudder with the curl of her fingertips.

It’s almost too easy to picture Bernie now it’s laced with so much want. The movement of her fingers mirrors the image in her mind: those dark eyes, shining with emotion; those soft lips, pressed desperately against her own; those fingers, Bernie’s fingers, working steady between her thighs.

_Oh._

She can imagine Bernie watching her like this, eyes sparkling with desire. She almost surprises herself with the moan that breaks free from her dry throat. Almost.

_She would have enjoyed that._  

It sparks an entirely new train of thought: _what if Bernie has imagined this? What if Bernie, with those nimble fingers of hers, has touched herself like this?_

Her mind takes a complete turn; images of Bernie deep inside her become Bernie rutting against her own hand. Serena’s hips follow, chasing a climax that builds slowly as her fantasy unfolds.

How many fingers would Bernie use? Two? _Three?_ She slips in another with a low groan, wets her lips at the thought of Bernie filling herself. Filling herself for her. That’s what pushes her to the edge: Bernie doing it for _her_. Bernie moaning for her, calling out her name, _coming for her_.

She clenches hard around her fingers, watching the stars dance behind her eyes, and comes to amongst soaking sheets for the last of many times this week. It's all Bernie’s fault— not that she’d ever admit to it.


End file.
